Volume 9, 2009

Swimming in a Watering Can

Bruce Bennett

Something was stuck. I thought it was some leaves,
so I poured out the water from the top.
There was this lump. I saw it was a mouse.
He must have tried to drink and lost his balance.
I stood there staring. Just a little lump
wet on the wet ground. Nothing could have saved him.
Who could have heard? Who would have heard a mouse
swimming? And it was outside, in the dark.
I don’t know why the thought of that upsets me.
Maybe it’s all the other stuff. It’s just
that awful image: paddling in the water,
helpless and desperate, nothing to catch hold of,
feeling your strength fail, little by little by little,
paddling and paddling, sinking, all alone.